Thank you so, so much for the response to the last chapter! I worked so hard to get it right, so it's really gratifying to hear feedback. You are seriously the best readers I could've asked for. So perceptive, and thoughtful, and gracious!

After all that, and after the midseason finale last night, you deserve some fluff! So here, have a chapter of fluff!

"Hey."

Caitlin looked up at Barry and Cisco's entrance and put on her best stern face, which, admittedly, wasn't much. "If you're going to try to talk me out of it again, you shouldn't bother."

"We're not." Barry took a seat at the end of her bed, while Cisco hopped onto the spare one a few feet away. "Just here to talk. To…see how you're doing."

Caitlin wasn't stupid. She knew that nobody wanted to leave her alone, especially not after she'd made it clear that going after Eiling was partly her responsibility. With Iris and Joe making a run to the police station, and Canton who knew where, that left Barry and Cisco to play babysitter. They looked just about as uncomfortable as she felt, sitting there in that medical bay. Iris had left Caitlin with a mug of soup and a blanket, but she still felt a chill that may or may not have been related to the void she imagined between herself and her friends.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to say anymore," Caitlin said. "If I'm being honest."

Barry and Cisco fell silent. The floor was suddenly the most intriguing part of the room, for all of them.

"This was never supposed to happen to you," Barry said. "It should have been me. I should've given myself up to Eiling and let you and Rose escape."

"Yeah, and then we would've had a brainwashed speedster on our hands," Cisco said. "Let's be real, I started all of this. I stepped out of my apartment at night and got myself kidnapped like an idiot. And I gave Eiling all of the information he needed to know about Killer Frost."

"Please don't do this," Caitlin said abruptly. "There's only one person to blame for this, and we're going to stop him. And I…" I'm glad it was me. The aches throughout her entire body flared to life with each heartbeat. She sighed, wincing at the effort of folding her legs. "Okay, I won't say that I wouldn't have had it any other way. I wish that none of us would've had to go through this, but…it's done. There's nothing we can do to change what happened."

She swiped the knuckles of one hand over her cheekbone. To clear the air, she cleared her throat, which still felt swollen and raspy, damaged from lack of hydration and abundance of screaming. Softening, Barry motioned at object still clutched in one hand. "He made you believe that wasn't real, didn't he?"

Caitlin looked down. To be honest, she'd forgotten that she was holding the picture frame, despite the fact that she was clutching it so tightly it was leaving indents in her palm. Iris, Barry, Cisco, and herself smiled up from within the frame.

"It's partly what brought me back," Caitlin admitted, running a thumb over the faces in the photo. "Seeing that you hadn't given it up. That you hadn't given me up."

Cisco craned his head to get a better look at the photo. "That was when the four of us went to the lake for the weekend, right? We should do that again, once this is all over."

"Yeah," Caitlin said, although she was starting to get the feeling that this would never be over. Not really. She put the picture back on the bedside table, careful to keep the mug of soup upright on her lap. The longer she looked at the framed photo, the more she caught sight of her fuzzy reflection—the short, bleached hair that didn't feel like hers.

Cisco took notice of the soup and motioned at it. "You should probably eat that before it gets…" Abruptly, he cut himself off. "While it's still warm. I think you get more nutrients when it's warm. You know. Nutrients for your health."

"Funny, I've never heard that before," Caitlin said. She considered the viscous red liquid. "I'm not really hungry."

"That's a strange statement to come from someone whose bones are practically sticking out of her body."

"I don't really have an appetite," Caitlin said, suddenly self-conscious. She wished she could pull the blanket tighter around her shoulders without being obvious about it.

"Listen, we're not going to make you eat it, if that's what you're thinking," Cisco said. "Especially if you're just going to puke it up, because, ew. But it would make me happy if you did."

"It would make me feel a little better about the fifteen burgers I ate as a snack yesterday," Barry said.

Caitlin's mouth twitched involuntarily. "You need that. For your metabolism."

"That's what he tells all of his dates," Cisco said. "'It's not me, it's my metabolism.'"

The smile crept further across Caitlin's face. The two boys were more relaxed now, physically; she could sense the involuntary release of tension from the usual jabs.

"Fine," she said. "If it will make you happy." She raised the mug of soup to her lips but found that the one hand was too shaky to support it; hoping her friends didn't notice the droplets that splashed overboard, she brought her other hand up for stability and drank.

It was hot, and rich, and more savory than anything she'd tasted in three months. The abundance of flavor was so cacophonous to her senses that she immediately coughed it up again, her esophagus sticky and constricted and her body trained to reject such luxury. Still more soup sloshed out of the mug, scalding her fingers and staining the sheets red.

As she finished hacking, she held up a hand to still the now-vigilant Barry and Cisco. Dispelling the last of the offending liquid from her lungs, she managed, "Sorry. Don't worry. Give me a second."

"Thought I told you not to puke," Cisco said weakly from his corner, but the hesitation was back. Desperate to dismiss that hesitation, get back to the feeling of normalcy, Caitlin waved her hand more desperately.

"No, I can do this. See?" Although the prospect of more soup made her stomach turn, she again raised the mug and took a sip. Now that she knew what to expect, the liquid went down more easily, and the warmth slipped closer to her core. Though her gag reflex still threatened to overwhelm her, she took her sips methodically, determinedly.

At the end of the bed, Barry beamed at her, like she was a small child performing unexpectedly well in some mundane task. The way he was looking at her, she half expected him to pull out a blue participation ribbon. "It's good, isn't it? Iris makes the best soup. See, you're doing just fine. You're getting better."

"Barry," Cisco warned, his voice going uncharacteristically low.

"What? I didn't—" He sighed. "Look, Cait, I know this isn't going to be some quick and easy fix, but look. This is progress. That's something, right? We can take small steps together."

He shifted to a more comfortable position on the edge of the bed, but in doing so he jostled his arm just enough to elicit a wince. Caitlin blinked, felt again the precise breakage in his bones, how good it had felt in that moment to sink her icy fingers in and fill those cracks with silver—

"You really shouldn't be using that sling on its own," she said haltingly. She set down the soup; now not even both of her hands was enough to keep it steady. "You should use a splint with an actual cast. It will heal faster that way. I assume you didn't set the bone after it was re-broken."

"Um." Barry looked to Cisco. "No. No, I didn't." He relieved Caitlin of her soup mug, depositing it on a side table while she adjusted to a more comfortable position. "Do you want to…help me out with that?"

Caitlin recoiled instantly. "I don't want to re-break your arm. No, no, no…"

"Shh," Barry said. "You don't have to do that. I just thought maybe it would help if you could…see, I don't think it's actually healed at all since last night, at least not that I can tell, and I'm not sure if that's because of the whole cold thing or what, but it's probably best to get this set right if it's going to have any chance of healing."

He was right. Damn him for that.

"I just thought that maybe if you could see how much we still need you here…"

"Never mind the fact that you wouldn't need me to fix your arm if I hadn't broken it," Caitlin said. She sighed. "Come here. Let me take a look."

Barry shifted closer to her and swung his legs up, so they were both cross-legged and facing each other on the bed. Cisco retrieved the splint and cast wrapping while Caitlin eased Barry's arm out of the sling. With his arm bared, he looked expectantly at her. She reached out and felt out the swollen, bruised juncture, his skin hot against her fingers.

She pressed down. Barry winced and sucked in a breath. Caitlin jerked backward as if stung.

"Hey, it's alright," Barry said. "You can't hurt me any more. That was just an involuntary reaction. I can handle it, I promise."

"You don't have your powers anymore," Cisco said, setting down the cast on the bed. "You don't have to worry about…accidentally turning him into a popsicle or something."

So he understood, at least. For another moment, Caitlin still wasn't sure she could continue, but with these reassurances, she gathered herself.

"Okay," she said. "Give me your arm again."

She gingerly handled Barry's arm, and she could see the restraint he was exercising in not making another sound. His lips were white as she prodded the break, maneuvering his arm in order to line it up properly.

"This is what we do," Cisco joked as a way to alleviate some of the tension. "As a welcome-back present, we put all of our injured friends immediately to work. Welcome back, Caitlin."

Caitlin tried to force a smile, but it wasn't very large, given how hard she was concentrating. Concentrating not only on the logistics of getting the cast on Barry's arm, but also monitoring her own vitals, her own heartbeat, for any trace signs of icy life. Logically, she knew they wouldn't appear, but she had to be prepared if they did. She had to remain vigilant.

She managed to get the cast on without much incident, and without much noise from Barry, which she felt both relieved and guilty about. When his arm was safely wrapped and returned to its sling, she pulled away immediately.

"This should start healing now," she said. "It'll be functional in a few hours, probably, but try not to push it."

"Thanks." Barry adjusted the sling himself. "I appreciate it."

"Any other broken bones I need to know about?" Caitlin said, only half-joking.

"Not currently," Barry said. "I mean, there was an incident two months back involving an earthquake and some falling rubble—"

"Dude, you said you wouldn't bring that up again."

"It was Cisco," Barry explained. "He started an earthquake with his powers while he was inside of a building." He grinned, and Cisco rolled his eyes.

"It was super heroic, okay?" Cisco said. "Very superhero-like. I mean, it was an accident, but still. Superhero."

"Until that piece of rubble broke your—"

"We said we wouldn't mention it again." Cisco held up a finger. "We agreed not to mention it again."

Barry shrugged at Caitlin, the teasing light still in his eyes. "He was very embarrassed. He wouldn't let me or Iris stay with him in the med bay at all."

"I wouldn't be talking, Mr. I-Mope-Whenever-I-Break-My-Nose-Running-Into-Walls.'"

"Wait," Caitlin said. "Back up. You said Cisco created an earthquake?"

"Well, it was kind of an accident, like I said," Cisco said sheepishly. "One of these days, I'll finally discover a new aspect of my powers on purpose. Can we talk about how Barry accidentally phased himself through a chair because he got startled by a spider, because—"

"No, earthquake," Caitlin insisted, a memory niggling at her, broaching the surface. "Cisco can cause an earthquake. Eiling's base is underground."

Barry and Cisco paused, then exchanged a look. She could see the idea growing on their faces just as it was growing in her mind. A tiny blossom of hope, just the barest inkling of warmth and softness and brightness, flared to life in her heart. She clung to it.

Cisco looked back to her, narrowed his eyes. "Keep talking."

Thanks so much for reading! As always, I crave feedback. And the best to all of you as we enter yet another hiatus.

Till next time,

Penn